Life in the Fast Lane
by Mistressjessica1028
Summary: All human story entirely from Eric's POV. Eric moves to New York City from Sweden looking to make it big. What sacrifices will he have to make to live in the fast lane? Rated M for language and sexual content.
1. Welcome to the Big Apple

I wearily push open the door of the bar. They have a 'Help Wanted' sign in the window and I am desperate. I'd come to New York City six months earlier convinced I was going to be the next big thing. After all, in my home county I am a BFD; but that doesn't mean jack shit here. In Sweden, everyone knew my name; I'd been famous since I was a kid. Hell, I'd been named Sweden's sexiest man five times! But in the Big Apple, I am just another pretty face. I've been on countless auditions, but nothing has come of it. I don't want to go back home because I will feel like a failure, and I don't want to give my father the satisfaction of being right. That fucker said I wouldn't amount to anything and I was a fucking idiot for leaving my home and family for something I've have no future in. My father, ladies and gentlemen, what a winner he is.

I've spent the last two days searching for a job because I'm almost out of money. I was fired from my last job because I bailed on a shift to go to an audition. In all fairness, I did tell my manager that I needed the day off, but he was a fucking prick and scheduled me anyways. I guess he was pissed at me since I'd fucked his girlfriend . . . twice.

The bar is nearly empty, but that isn't surprising given the early hour. There is one patron sitting at the bar while the bartender dries glasses and hangs them in the racks above the bar. There are staff members moving around the room, lowering chairs to the floor and wiping off tables. Musicians are sitting on the stage quietly practicing songs as someone works the sound board. Another crew member climbs among the lighting, replacing bulbs as needed.

I approach the bartender hoping he can point me in the direction of the owner. "Excuse me," I say as politely as possible.

The bartender snaps without looking in my direction, "What?" He is a muscular black man wearing snug black pants and a black button-down shirt. The bartender turns to me with a look of irritation, but his demeanor instantly changes. Now that he is facing me, I can see that he has no hair on his face or head. When he saunters (yes, I said saunters) along the length of the bar to stand in front of me, I can see that he is wearing purple eye shadow, fake eyelashes, and purple sparkly nail polish. He licks his full lips as he looks me up and down. "Well hello Handsome! How can I help you? It will be my absolute pleasure to serve you." The bartender gives me a flirtatious smile and wink. I can't help it, I laugh; I'm European so being hit on by a gay man doesn't bother me.

Trying to gain his favor, I smile flirtatiously. "I was hoping to apply for a job; I saw the 'Help Wanted' sign in the window."

"You're hired," the bartender says instantly. "You can be my eye-candy every night."

"Don't mind Lafayette," the man sitting at the bar tells me. He rises, and moves towards me. He is a slender looking guy in a three-piece suit. "My name is Sam Merlotte, and this is my bar," he says while extending his hand to me. His hand shake is surprisingly firm given how scrawny he looks.

"Eric Northman," I respond. It's not my real name, but American's cannot pronounce my name properly.

"So Eric, you ever work in a bar before?" Sam gazes at me, assessing me. His brown eyes stare intently from beneath the mop of shaggy brown hair, a startling contrast to the businessman look of his suit.

"No I have not," I answer honestly and I see the interest fade from Sam's face. I try to recover by saying jokingly, "But I've been a frequent customer in bars." My heart sinks; I can already see the 'thanks but no thanks' look on Sam's face.

Before Sam can even speak, Lafayette interjects. "Don't you even think about turning him down Sam! It's Friday night; we're gonna be slammed, and I'm not manning this bar all by myself!"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Who's the owner here? Last time I checked, it was my name listed as proprietor."

Lafayette gives Sam a haughty look in return. "And who do you think it is that makes you all your money? It damn sure ain't the waitresses since there is only half a brain between the four of 'em!" Lafayette gestures towards the waitresses that are roaming the floor of the club before slapping his fist against the wood of the bar. "You need me Sam, and I'm tellin' you I need help behind this damn bar!"

I watch the exchange between the two men with avid interest. It seems as if Lafayette has changed Sam's mind because he turns back to me with a sigh. "You do whatever Lafayette tells you," Sam orders. "Normal uniform is black dress pants and a black button-down shirt. There's a shop two blocks over where you can get the shirt; those pants and shoes will do for tonight. This is a trial basis only. If you manage to survive tonight and tomorrow then we'll talk about you having a job. Understand?"

"Yes sir!" I nod my head emphatically as I vigorously shake Sam's hand. Sam walks away from the bar mumbling under his breath about "fucking diva bartenders". I don't care; I have a fucking job!

"Thank you," I exclaim to Lafayette. "I mean it, I really needed a job."

"Oh don't thank me yet Handsome," Lafayette says solemnly. "You's gonna be run ragged tonight and tomorrow. If you survive, then we can talk about how you can thank me," he says with a wink and a smirk. "I suggest you do as the boss man says and go buy yourself a black shirt. When you get back, we'll go over the basics to get you through tonight."

Holy fuck do my feet hurt! Lafayette wasn't kidding when he said the bar would be slammed. Every table is occupied and there is very little space to maneuver around the club. We have worked nonstop since seven and it's almost nine now. The band has played background music for the last half hour, and the patrons seem to be getting restless. Fortunately, most of the patrons have simple tastes in drinks: wine, beer, and scotch neat. The crowd definitely has a Mad Men vibe to it. I knew when I entered the club it wasn't a neighborhood dive, but I had no idea the clientele would be so high-end. The men are dressed in designer suits while the women that accompany them are wrapped in jewels the colors of the rainbow.

There is a lull at the bar which allows Lafayette and me to catch our breath. "You weren't kidding when you said this place would be packed. Is it always like this?"

Lafayette nods his head before taking a healthy swallow from his bottle of water. "Friday and Saturday nights are killers. It's the only nights when we have live entertainment."

I think nothing more about it until all the lights in the bar dim. The band goes silent as the stage area is completely dark. A hush falls over the crowd. I lean forward on the bar, curious to see what all the fuss is about; surely it can't be as good as everyone is making out.

A sultry voice begins humming into the microphone filling the silence of the club. It seems as if all the patrons of the bar lean forward trying to hear the voice better. As the words and music of the song begin, a single white spotlight illuminates the stage. The light seems to create a glow around the singer as if she is an angel. Her voice certainly could belong in the choir of angels. I am entranced as the singer weaves her magic, her voice full of emotion as she sings about finally finding love.

As the last note of the song fades away, the crowd erupts into thunderous applause; I, too, am clasping in appreciation for the beauty I have just witnessed.

"Who is that?" I gesture towards the stage in case Lafayette didn't hear my question.

"That's Sookie," he tells me with a smile. Lafayette's smile is one of genuine affection as he looks to the songbird on the stage. He hustles to the end of the bar when a patron gestures to him for a drink refill, which leaves me free to watch the beauty on the stage.

From this distance, she looks to be a tiny thing; she looks to be almost a foot shorter than me. But her body is absolutely mouth-watering; her hourglass figure is shown off to perfection in a skintight black sheath dress that frames two of the most perfect breasts I've ever seen. Her blonde hair is swept back from her face in some fancy up do that creates a halo around her head. The make-up on her face makes her eyes look smoky while her lips are painted a bright cherry red. She looks like a torch singer from the old forties and fifties movies my grandmother used to watch as she stands with her hands caressing the microphone as if it's her lover. Her cherry red lips are so close to the microphone that it gives me images of what her lips would look like wrapped around a suddenly active part of my anatomy.

For two hours, the blonde songstress enchanted the patrons of the club. She sang a variety of songs, ranging from Ella Fitzgerald to Foo Fighters. I was impressed with her selections; she didn't seem to shy away from anything. She even gave the members of the band a brief rest in the middle of the show; the only accompaniment to her beautiful voice were the notes from the piano as she played. Besides singing, she bantered with the audience, making each person feel as if they were part of her show. She even indulged a few members of the crowd by singing a few requests. Like the audience, I was disappointed when she sang her final song of the night; I could listen to her sing forever.

Once the performance was over, it was as if a switch was flipped. Gone was the feeling of a smoky nightclub; it was replaced by loud dance music that got the patrons up dancing. The bar was once again slammed with customers and Lafayette and I hustled until he rang the bell for last call at 1:30 am. I wanted to weep for joy; my entire body was aching. I had no idea that being a bartender was so labor-intensive. I feel like such an ass now for all the times I'd given bartenders a hard time because they weren't quick enough to get my drink.

At 1:55 am, the lights on the club came on, blinding everyone with their brightness. It took me several seconds to adjust to the bright light after having been in the club's semi-darkness for the last however many hours. I began washing the bar glasses as Lafayette wipes down the countertops. He then begins restocking the shelves in preparation for the opening of business later today. I can't believe in a little over 18 hours we'd be doing this all over again. The thought has me wanting to break down and cry. Sam comes behind the bar to close out the registers for the night. Security works to push the few straggling customers out the door. When the last of the customers are out the door, the security guards bolt the doors closed.

"So how did your first night go Eric?" Sam has a pencil between his teeth as he counts the cash in the register. My eyes widen fractionally; I've never seen that much cash at one time in my life. There is easily several thousand dollars in twenties alone.

"It was harder than I thought it would be," I answer honestly. "My feet are killing me. I don't know how you do it every night," I say with a look of respect to Lafayette.

"You get used to it," he says with a shrug. "But every night isn't like this; I usually only work Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Sometimes I'll work another night during the week, but that's only if Sam needs me. Sam usually mans the bar Sunday through Wednesday. We had another bartender, but he quit earlier this week. Got himself a part in the chorus of a show on Broadway, the lucky bitch; hope he breaks his damn leg!" Lafayette pours himself a large shot of tequila and tosses the contents back. He pours himself another shot and reaches for another shot glass. "You want one?"

My eyes flicker to Sam, seeing if he has a problem with his bartender drinking while on the clock. Sam sees my concern and smiles around the pencil still in his mouth. "I don't mind if you have a drink or two once we close; lord knows we all need it sometimes. No drinking while we're open, even if the patrons offer to buy you a drink." That seems fair to me; wouldn't want your staff drunk while working.

"I'd rather have a beer if you don't mind."

"Help yourself," Lafayette gestures to the beer refrigerator. Sam has a great beer selection; nearly a hundred different beers on tap or in bottles and all of them are popular with the customers.

"I'll take that shot, Lala," a sweet, soft, Southern voice says while my back is to the bar. When I turn around, I find myself looking into the eyes of the sultry songstress from earlier. Except now, she looks more like the girl-next-door type instead of a sexpot. From what I can see, she's sans any make-up, has her in a loose ponytail, and is wearing a white t-shirt. Lafayette pours a generous shot for her which she easily picks up and downs in one large gulp. She's absolutely adorable in that she does a full body shiver once she swallows.

She stares at me with interest. "Who's your friend Lafayette?"

"Sookie Stackhouse, I'd like you to meet Eric Northman. He's the bartender Sam hired this evening."

I extend my hand across the bar to shake hers, engulfing her tiny hand in my own. "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Stackhouse." She gives me a bright smile and says it's nice to meet me as well.

Looking back on it, I wish I had known that moment was when I met the woman I was supposed to spend my life with. Maybe if I had known just how special Sookie was to me I wouldn't have let her go.


	2. A Trip Down Memory Lane

_**Present Day**_

"Eric what are you doing? We need to be leaving for the theater if you plan to make it on time?" Pam's voice drifts across the room to where I'm standing by the window. I've been looking out the window for nearly an hour, though I haven't really seen the world below me. My hotel room at The Plaza affords me a view of Central Park, but it's not the park itself that holds my interest; it's the memories of when Sookie and I used to spend our days wondering the paths with our hands clasped tightly together, lying in the grass letting our lips and hands get the best of us, or watching her worship the sun she loved so much. Sighing I drag my eyes away from the window. I hate coming back to this city; it always brought up some of my happiest and most painful memories...all of which involved Sookie.

"We have time Pam," I say with a sigh. "I planned to walk to the theater anyway. It's not like it's far."

"Fine, you can walk, but I'm taking a cab! I'm not risking these shoes on the streets of New York!" She gestures towards her newest pair of Manolo Blahnik's as if they are a newborn infant that needs to be protected from the world. I close my eyes and sigh internally. How the hell did my life spin so far out of control? Sookie hadn't been concerned with material things; all she ever wanted was my time and love. And I fucked it all up; I turned my back on the best thing in my life for a shot at fame and fortune. Look what it got me; I was famous, I had a fortune, women and men threw themselves at me seeking my company, but none of it made me fucking happy. The only happiness I had known was in the arms of the only woman I had ever loved...a woman who wanted nothing to do with me. So why was I being a glutton for punishment and going to see her performing on Broadway, knowing that all I could do was admire her from afar?

Pam must sense my melancholia because she drops the brisk facade for a moment to ask me softly. "Are you sure you want to do this? We don't have to go see the show."

I nod my head slowly. "I need to be there Pam; I need to see her final performance." Of course I don't tell Pam that I'd also seen the first performance and several in between. Every show Sookie had been in, I had seen at least twice. But this one was different; this was the show that had made her the darling of Broadway; the first time her name had been above the marquee. I wish I could have been there to see her face the first time she had seen her name in lights. With a faint smile, I remember how excited she had been for me the first time she had seen my name in the credits of the TV show that gave me my big break. She had been my biggest supporter; it seemed like the least I could do was support her even if it was from afar.

"Are you going to talk to her this time?" I guess I wasn't as discreet as I thought was. I didn't think anyone knew about me watching Sookie from afar.

I sigh again as I look at Pam. Pain fills my eyes and my voice is lifeless when I respond. "What's the point? She made it pretty clear the last time we saw each other that she wanted nothing to do with me."

"Can you blame her?" Pam looks at me critically and I feel like a little boy that's disappointed his mom; I feel two inches tall.

"No," I mumble. "I still love her Pam; no matter how much time has passed. Me not loving Sookie wasn't the reason for our relationship ending."

"No," she says with her snark coming back in full force. "It's because you couldn't keep your dick out of another woman that you lost the best thing that ever happened to you." Her heels click loudly against the marble floor as she crosses to the door. She opens it and turns back to me. "If you're done with your pity party for one, we are officially late. The show starts in less than a half hour."

The inside of The Palace Theatre is jam packed when Pam and I arrive and are escorted to our seats. It seems tonight's performance is a who's who of the rich and famous. The show is actually starting a little late this evening because of all the madness that is taking place inside. I cannot help but feel a sense of pride knowing that all of these people are here to see Sookie's last performance in _Bayou Blues_. She is, after all, the reason the show has been a smashing success for nearly three years. The story seems as if it had been tailor-made for Sookie; it's the tale of a nightclub singer in New Orleans as she struggles to balance her life with her quest for fame. Sookie's character, Emeline known as Emme, works in a nightclub tucked in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The show opens with Emme alone on stage, illuminated by a single spotlight, singing about how she is looking to escape. She is from a poor background and seeks fame and fortune so she will be able to take care of herself and never be poor again. While working in the club, she falls in love with Rene, a musician that works in the club. However, she ends up casting Rene aside for Louis, a man that claims he can make Emme a star. The show ends with Emme a star, but she is alone and heartbroken. Louis only uses her to further his own career, he does not love her. Emme returns to the nightclub in New Orleans, hoping to find Rene. However her search does not end the way she hoped; Rene is now the owner of the club and happily married to Marie, who used to be Emme's best friend. The show ends the same way it began; Emme singing alone on the stage lamenting her lost chance at happiness. The overall message of the show hits too close to home for me; the first time I had seen the show I felt as if I had been punched in the gut and as if my heart was being squeezed by a vice. I had wept right along with Emme as she cried for her foolishness in giving up the person she loved for fame. It was a mistake I too had made.

_**Eight Years Ago**_

My two night trial audition at Merlotte's turned into a full-time job for me. I worked Friday and Saturday nights, with two additional nights during the week. The thing I really liked the most about the job was that it left me free during the day to attend auditions. I didn't necessarily enjoy the work; it was backbreaking and tiring. However, the pay was good, and I enjoyed the time I spent with Lafayette and Sookie. Both Friday and Saturday night, Sookie had sat at the bar while Lafayette and I cleaned up. She was a beautiful girl with a great personality and we flirted a lot my first weekend working at Merlotte's. I was fascinated by her, and I wasn't against the idea of pursuing something with her. However, Sam put a wrinkle in my plan when I showed up for work Thursday night. He informed me that he had a no dating policy for his employees; he didn't want outside relationships interfering with his business. What the fuck?

"What's got your panties in a twist? I'd be more than happy to take them off a'ya and help you relax," Lafayette tells me with a wink. He has been trying to show me how to make mixed drinks, but I keep screwing things up. I'm not really concentrating since I keep replaying over and over in my head Sam's words from earlier.

"After I finished filling out all my paperwork tonight, Sam made it a point to tell me about his no dating policy," I say like a sulky child.

Lafayette stands up straight and raises both his eyebrows. He puts his hands on his hips before he demands, "What no dating policy?" Before I can respond, he starts muttering under his breath. When he catches my wide-eyed stare he calms down a bit. "Don't let that mutha fucka get to ya. He's just pissy that you and Sook were battin' eyes at each other. Sam's been in love wit her fo years, but she's never looked at him that way."

Shit! I need this job and I don't want to lose it because I flirted with the girl the boss likes. Things pick up and I don't have much time to think about Sam's words. However, the waitresses must not have gotten the memo about the no dating policy because I am suddenly the shiny new toy they all want to play with. Each of them tries to gain my attention one way or another. Lafayette tells me if I know what's good for me I'd give all of them a wide berth. I should have listened to him; but like most horny twenty-something men, I let my dick do most of the decision making when it comes to women. After work that night, I hook up with Dawn. She is attractive; brown wavy hair, green eyes, and nice tits. The best part of Dawn is that she made it perfectly clear she isn't interested in a relationship, just someone that will fuck her hard and make her cum. I'd say I fulfilled her requirements; she shows up to work Friday night walking gingerly and her voice is a bit hoarse from all the screaming she'd done during our sexathon.

I can't help smirking when all the waitresses turn their attention to me during our prep work; I guess Dawn was singing my praises. Lafayette glances in the direction of the waitresses and then back at me. He shakes his head in disgust, "You a damn fool. I just hope you triple wrapped your dick; no telling what types of diseases that skanky bitch has."

"Are you jealous sweetheart?" My tone is a teasing purr as I walk to Lafayette and put my arm around him teasingly. "You know you're still my favorite." Lafayette's response is to "hmph" before shrugging out of my grasp so he can continue his work. I am laughing at his reaction until I turn around and my eyes meet Sookie's baby blues. The laughter gets stuck in my throat and I swallow uncomfortably because her eyes seem to be filled with disappointment while looking at me. I open my mouth to say something but she beats me to it.

"Lala, do you have my tea ready?" He nods his head and passes her a tray containing a mug, a large tea pot filled with boiling water, tea bags, honey, and lemon slices. Before I can say anything to her, she turns quickly and makes her way back to the dressing room Sam had created for her. She didn't say anything to me; didn't even acknowledge my presence. I feel guilty and I don't know why; I feel like I did something wrong.

"I told you; yous a damn fool," Lafayette says quietly by my side.

I didn't see Sookie again until she went on stage. Her voice is as enchanting as usual but something feels off about her performance; I don't think anyone else can tell, but to me, she seems distracted. She doesn't seem to have the same sparkle in her eyes she did last weekend. I want to talk to her after her performance is over, but she doesn't stick around to. Tray, one of the musicians in the band, says she went home as soon as the encore was over. When I ask Lafayette if that is normal, he shrugs and says "Sometimes".

Dawn chooses that moment to slide up beside me. "Hey handsome; how about an encore performance?" She trails her fingernails up my arm to my chest in what I guess she thinks is a seductive manner. Something about her touch now makes me feel dirty and I can't suppress the shudder that courses through my body. By the way her grin widens, I'm sure she thinks it is because she is turning me on. I don't remember what I say to her, but I know that I go home alone after my shift. I do not sleep well. Every time I close my eyes, I see Sookie standing there looking hurt and disappointed.

I've been working at Merlotte's now for a couple of months. At first, Dawn and the other waitresses constantly pursued me, but I never responded after that one hook up with Dawn. She became slightly bitchy towards me, but got over it when she set her sights on the new security guard Quinn. I really am enjoying my job; the money is great and I like working with Lafayette. Despite his attempts to convert me to playing for the same team, we become close friends. He and his partner Jesus, a nurse at New York Presbyterian, welcome me in their home with open arms. I mean that literally; they invited me to live with the two of them in the brownstone they rent. I had reservations at first, but considering what I paid for a flat the size of a janitorial closet and that my neighbors are cockroaches and roodles (rats the size of poodles), I quickly accepted the offer. Their brownstone is located in Greenwich Village; Lafayette teased me that by living in the Village my conversion to the same team will only be a matter of time. I love living in the Village; it reminds me a lot of home with its markets, restaurants, and Bohemian lifestyle. Even though we are still in Manhattan, life seems much slower in our neighborhood. The brownstone Jesus and Lafayette rent is amazing. Given Lafayette's flamboyant tendencies and affinity for animal print, I worried their home would be like walking into Liberace's personal petting zoo. However, I must admit I am pleasantly surprised by how tastefully decorated everything is and how much it feels like home. You walk up ten steps to get to the entrance and enter the main living area which consists of a living room, eat-in kitchen, and bathroom. The second level has two bedrooms that share a bathroom and another sitting area. The third level is the master suite which Lafayette and Jesus share. In addition to no longer worrying I will be eaten alive by cockroaches or roodles, the food in their home is always amazing! Lafayette tends to cook soul food or Cajun style and Jesus is always making a Latin inspired dish. I don't think I have ever eaten as well as I do living with them. Despite all of the perks that I get living with Lafayette and Jesus, there is one that is head and shoulders above the rest.

Sookie Stackhouse.

In addition to working at the club with Lafayette and me, Sookie also lives in the brownstone; she occupies the other bedroom on the second floor. Her story is fasinating. She had come to New York City from Louisiana to attend NYU; she is a third-year college student. During freshman orientation, she and some people she met ended up at Merlotte's for karaoke night. Everyone in the group had taken turns doing karaoke, with Sookie being the last in the group to go. The story I heard was that Sam offered Sookie a job after hearing her do a karaoke version of Etta James' _At Last_. According to Lafayette, her version that night put Ms. Etta's to shame. Sookie only works Fridays and Saturdays for Sam; occasionally she will fill in as a waitress during the week if he is in a pinch, but she prefers to devote all of her time during the week to school. She has grown quite the fan club while performing at Merlotte's the past three years; there is never an open seat in the house when she performs. Sam knows she is the reason his bar is so successful, so he makes sure she is well compensated. Lafayette told me some stories of other clubs trying to lure her away and Sam had acted like a rabid dog marking his territory. I'm not sure how much she makes, but I know it is enough for her to completely support herself while going to school and live off campus; no easy feat for a normal college student, and damn near extraordinary considering we live in NYC.

Sookie fascinates me; from the moment I'd heard her sing in the club, I was smitten. I never acted on the attraction for two reasons; Lafayette and Jesus made it perfectly clear they will kill me and hide my body so it will never be found if I hurt Sookie, but most importantly, Sookie has shown no interest in me since she found out I slept with Dawn. There are times when she acts like I don't even exist at all, but then there are other times when I get glimpses of the Sookie I met that first weekend.

Sookie had moved in with Lafayette and Jesus at the end of her first year at NYU. Her family had argued with her to come home, but she refused stating she could earn more money as a waitress in New York for the summer than she could in Louisiana. Her family wasn't happy with how infrequently she came home, but they couldn't fault her logic and they couldn't find fault with how well she did in school. I thought given her career as a singer she would be majoring in performing arts major at NYU. Imagine my surprise when I learned she was a duel major in art history and urban design/architecture. Sookie confessed one night she hated performing in front of people; she hated being the center of attention. When I asked her why she sang at the club she shrugged her shoulders and said the money was too good to pass up. She has no desire to be an actress or a singer; she sings because she enjoys it. Lafayette complained good-naturedly that if he had one quarter of Sookie's talent, it would be him in the revival of _The Producers_ instead of Matthew Broderick or Nathan Lane.

Despite all the information I know about Sookie, I don't really feel like I _know _her. What information I know has come from Lafayette, Jesus, or Sam. She never talks about herself, and she doesn't really hang out with anyone besides Lafayette and Jesus. Even in the house she keeps to herself. Before I moved in, I tried to talk to Sookie about how she felt about having me move in. Her response was to shrug her shoulders and say it wouldn't matter to her since she wasn't there all that much. The only thing she asked was that I be considerate about the bathroom since we had to share it. I jokingly told her that I would try to remember to leave the seat down for her. Her response had been to blink at me owlishly before saying that didn't bother her; she said she her brother was more of a wild animal and less of a human. Her concern was about my "lady friends" that would be staying over; she didn't want to find random women in her bathroom.

How do I tell her that I don't want any lady friends staying over? I just want her.


	3. Shattered Dreams

_**Seven Years Ago**_

"What are you doing today?" Sookie is lying on her bed with her laptop and text books surrounding her. The dedication she shows to school amazes me. She's a member of Phi Kappa Phi, the national honor society for scholastic excellence. It goes without saying that she's on the Dean's list. But she doesn't spend all her time studying; she works at the bar on the weekends, finds time to hang out with her friends, including her boyfriend Jake. The first time Jake showed up at the bar it fucking killed me! I didn't realize Sookie was even seeing anyone. He came to the bar to watch her sing. Jake's a good-looking guy, if you like that Abercrombie and Fitch type. And he seems to genuinely like Sookie, from the way he acts the few times I've seen them together.

Is it wrong that I hate him?

Since moving in the house, I haven't brought a single girl back here. Not because I haven't had the opportunity; I have. Believe me, I have. Girls throw themselves at me, I don't even have to try to flirt with them. The women in the club are very vocal in letting me know they are available for ANYTHING I want. But I don't want them; I want the pretty blonde in front of me wearing a tank top and yoga pants with a pen sticking out of her messy up do.

"I'm working on my design for my final project and I'm trying to study for my upcoming exam. Unfortunately, I have no desire to be doing either thing. I'd rather be sitting in the park soaking up the sun," she says with a heavy sigh as she flops down on the bed dramatically.

I can't help but laugh at her woe is me attitude. "I don't think sitting in the park is really an option today. It's pouring outside." A loud boom of thunder chooses that moment to shake the walls with its intensity. I chuckle again at her disgruntled expression as she props herself up on her elbows.

"UGH! Damn weather man! I swear I'm studying the wrong thing. Why is it that a weather man can be wrong every day and not get fired? Seriously,_that's_ the field I need to get into!"

Chuckling again at her exasperation, I move into her room and sit on her desk chair. "You'd make a cute weather girl. They'd put you on one of those early morning shows because you have such a great personality. You'd be the perky weather girl," I say with a big smile.

Sookie groans loudly as she flings an arm over her eyes dramatically. "I'd hate myself if I had to do that every day. I don't do mornings! Have you seen the amount of coffee I need in the morning just to be able to talk like a normal human being and not a caveman? I swear I need an IV drip of coffee. I'll be so happy when I no longer have 8:00 am classes! Who functions correctly at that hour?"

She flops over on her side, propping her head on her hand. Her other hand rests on the curve of her hip. I'm trying really hard to be good, but the top of her bra is showing where her tank top is hanging low due to her reclining position. Her tank top is red, and the lace of her bra is a baby pink. I lick my lips hungrily and feel my cock stirring inside my lounge pants. I shift uncomfortably in the chair and try to look anywhere but at her chest.

"Well since my dream of enjoying the sunshine has been ruined, what can I do for you today?"

My cock twitches again and I'm now semi-erect. Dozens of various sexual acts run through my mind as I take her innocent words and drag them through the gutter. I can't tell you the last time someone other than Rosie and her four sisters touched my cock. It's been months; not since Dawn have I been with a woman. Lafayette was right, I was a damn fool. Whatever shot I'd had with Sookie, I'd blown because I let my dick do the thinking. And now I am paying the penance because every woman I go out with I end up comparing to Sookie. I'm sick of the starving, bitchy models and actresses struggling to get their big break; I want the wholesome girl-next-door with the voice of an angel that sleeps a few feet away from me every single fucking night.

"Hello, Eric? Earth to Eric!" Sookie tosses a pillow at my head to bring me back to the here and now. She's looking at me as if I'm crazy. I guess she isn't far off the mark.

"Sorry," I say with a sheepish grin. If she only knew what I was really thinking . . . "Would you be willing to read lines with me? I have an audition tomorrow."

Since I've moved in and am not distracted by a revolving door of women, I've really focused on being an actor. Lafayette put me in touch with his agent, Pamela Ravenscroft. She's a ferocious bitch that I swear drinks the blood of small children to survive, but she is very good at her job. I was impressed at our first meeting when she was able to list the highlights of my acting roles without looking at my résumé. Pam, in return, had been impressed with my work in Sweden but much less so with the few roles I'd managed to snag while in the this country. I'd had a few commercials, bit parts as a featured extra, but nothing of substance. Nothing I was proud of. She said I was marketing myself incorrectly. I was going for auditions to be the handsome boyfriend or the hunky older brother. She said those roles weren't me; I needed to find something more cerebral, more emotional. Pam said to put my trust in her; if I did, I would get what I wanted. How could I refuse?

"What's the audition for?" Sookie thankfully sits back up on the bed and begins cleaning up the mess on her bed. She stacks her books in a pile, puts her notes and pens back in her bag, and powers down her laptop.

"It's for a two-episode arc on Law and Order: SVU. I'd be playing the victim actually. They are doing two episodes about a guy that is sexually assaulted during a fraternity event." I'm animated as I talk about the part. This is just the type of role Pam was talking about that I needed. I really needed to get inside this character. Yes, it requires a pretty face, but the heart of the role is in its emotional complexity.

"That sounds awful! Why would you want to do that role?" Sookie looks horrified and I have to reassure her that nothing bad is gonna happen to me. The assault doesn't take place on camera.

"Besides, Pam said this would be the perfect type of role for me. It's about a young, good-looking guy but it's about more than just his pretty face. I'm tired of always being thought of as a pretty face with a nice body; this is the chance to show a range of emotions. I have to be vulnerable, traumatized, and vengeful; it's a chance to show what I can do." I want this part so fucking bad I can taste it! I've been on a run lately where I haven't gotten a single call back; it's fucking depressing. I'm starting to wonder if maybe my father was right; that this is just a fucking waste of time. But what will I do if I'm not an actor? I didn't graduate college; I have no trade skills. All I know how to do is an actor or a bartender, and I don't really want to be slinging drinks the rest of my life.

"There's just one problem that I can see," Sookie says as she reaches for a copy of the script. "Why are you auditioning if they want a young guy? You're so old; hell, you're practically ancient!"

My eyes narrow at the impish blonde on the bed biting her lower lip trying to fight the smile threatening to spread across her lips. Sookie loves teasing me about my age. Everyone had been shocked to learn that I am twenty-eight; I am the eldest in the house and Sookie is the baby just shy of twenty-one. She's batting those blue eyes, trying to be innocent but she isn't fooling anyone. Before she can react, I've pushed her back into the mattress, tackling her as my hands attack her most ticklish parts. Sookie shrieks and screams in between laughing as I make good use of my tall frame. I'm straddling the tops of her thighs, locking her legs in place so she can't accidentally damage the goods. I might be feeling blue-balled, but that doesn't mean I want the boys literally black and blue from a wayward knee. My hands are mercilessly attacking her ribs and stomach while deftly avoiding her counter measures. She's wriggling around on the bed and her shirt has risen up, so my fingers are attacking bare skin which makes me pause.

"Eric, stop! I can't breathe!" Sookie is gasping for breath. Her hands are gripping my wrists thinking she can stop me from continuing my tickle attack. Seeing her like this gets my mind thinking of other reasons for us to be wrestling in a bed. I should climb off the bed since my body is also reacting to Sookie lying flushed and panting in a bed.

"Are you ready to apologize?" My conscious says I _should_ get out of her bed, however I didn't tell myself I was going to.

"Never!" There is a defiant sparkle in her eyes as she responds. Before I can resume my attack, the sneaky devil bolts upright, bringing our chests flush together before her lips capture mine in a kiss. My lips were slightly parted from my heavy breathing which gives Sookie access to suck erotically on my lower lip. Each time she sucks my lip in her mouth, her teeth skim along my sensitive flesh, a sensation that quickly has my cock at full attention. She releases my lower lip but keeps her lips on mine, giving me feather-light kisses that inflame my senses, leaving me hungry for more. My hands fist in her hair and my lips claim hers in a kiss full of passion, pouring out every ounce of frustration I've felt over the last year.. My kiss is needy, desperate; I am a man drowning and she is the only thing that will quench my thirst.

Sookie eventually pulls back when we both need to breathe. Her eyes have become an indigo color as they blaze with passion. Her lips are red and swollen from my onslaught and her breasts are heaving; each rise and fall causes her pert nipples to graze my chest. My hands have slid out of her hair to cup her face, my thumb brushing across the skin of her cheek. What can I possibly say after that?

"I always knew you's be a screamer in bed," Lafayette says from the open doorway. He brings his coffee mug to his lips, taking a healthy swallow. "Bout time you's end up in bed together. I'll tell Jesus to stop at the store on his way home; we're gonna need ear plugs." Lafayette smiles knowingly at us before he sashays away like the diva he is.

Lafayette's words snap me out of my Sookie-haze. I hurriedly climb off Sookie, my movements awkward thanks to the raging erection in my pants. Avoiding looking at Sookie, I pick up my copy of the script, using it as a shield to hide my cock. I turn to leave the room. That wasn't supposed to happen. Don't get me wrong, I'm beyond words that I finally kissed Sookie. It felt fuckin awesome! Her body is soft where mine is hard, and she fit me perfectly. I swear I tasted strawberries and cream when I kissed her; it reminds me of warm summer days eating strawberry shortcake. Those breasts pressed against my chest were a sweet torment and I regret not becoming more intimately acquainted with them. We could have been bosom buddies. But that ship has sailed. I'm already imaging how awkward things are going to get with Sookie; we live together . . . we work together . . . fuck! How could I forget she has a boyfriend?

"Where do you think you're going?" Sookie's voice is demanding and it stops me in my tracks. Looking over my shoulder, I find her arms crossed over her chest and she's cocked an eyebrow waiting for my answer. If she were standing, she'd be tapping her foot impatiently.

"I uh . . . I was gonna practice my lines in my room." Smooth Northman, real smooth. At least I didn't say that I was going to take a cold shower first. Spending all my free-time with my hand has apparently made me stupid. Has science done a study searching for the correlation between masturbation and dying brain cells? If not, I'd be a prime candidate.

"I thought you wanted my help." She picks up the other copy of the script then slides off the bed. Sookie walks gracefully toward me. "We'll practice downstairs in the living room. Afterwards, you're taking me on a date; someplace nice, but not too fancy."

Yup, brain cells are definitely dead because I can only stand still as a statue doing my best goldfish impersonation as I blink rapidly with my mouth opening and closing without the aid of words coming to my rescue. Sookie smirks as she pulls my copy of the script out of my hands, revealing the reason for my stupidity.

"You're gonna need all the help you can get if you think your dick can magically memorize your lines for you. Osmosis works for water; you can't absorb your lines that way. Besides, we don't want you to accidentally get a paper cut down there; you might need it later. Or is that your plan; getting hurt so I will kiss it and make it better?" Excuse me, where has this sex kitten been? I want to ask her about Jake, I want to know if this is a one-time thing or is it going to lead to something more.

But in this moment, my body is definitely in charge. I take a step towards her, ready to find out exactly how her mouth can make it all better. But she stops me with a hand to my chest. Her lips are curved in a smile and there's a playful sparkle in her eyes.

"Work first, playtime later."

_**Present Time**_

My eyes are glassy as I watch Sookie as Emme sharing her first kiss with Rene. I remember how elated I felt when Sookie and I finally became a couple. True to her word, she helped me practice lines for my audition and then we went on our first date. For dinner, I took Sookie to a restaurant in Little Italy. I'd been nervous about finally getting to go on a date with the girl of my dreams. What if I screwed up? Or worse, what if when we got to dinner we had nothing to talk about? My fears were unfounded; our conversation that evening was back to the easy banter Sookie and I had the weekend we met. She was funny, engaging, vivacious, and I was utterly captivated. And the noises she made while she ate . . . I thought for a minute I was having dinner with Meg Ryan in that scene from '_When Harry Met Sally_'. By the time dinner was over, the rain had let up so we were able to walk back through Soho to our house. We were about two blocks away when the rain started again. Sookie and I ran back to the house; she'd had to take off her heels to run without falling. By the time we reached the house, we were a dripping, ragged mess. To me though, she never looked more beautiful and I'd ended up kissing her until we were both breathless.

It would have been so easy for me to carry Sookie upstairs that night and lay claim to her body, but I didn't, I wanted to show her I was a gentleman. Despite all the chemistry between us, we knew that we needed to be cautious with how we progressed because of how tightly our lives were interwoven. As much as my body was screaming for release, I wasn't in a rush. I'd rather have Sookie for the long haul than a moment's gratification.

I credit Sookie with being the reason my luck changed with my career. I got a call back after my first audition with Law and Order: SVU. And then I got a second call back. After the third audition, I was told I got the job. I was over the moon; when I got home and I celebrated with all my housemates. We drank, laughed, and told stories late into the night.

We are nearing intermission of the show. It is the scene where Emme meets Louis for the first time, where Louis tells Emme he can make her a star. Sookie looks so earnest and innocent as she sings about wanting to be a star, how she is willing to do anything to have her dream come true. Louis looks villainous as he encourages Emme, while Rene, stands to the side heartbroken as he realizes he is going to lose the woman he loves. It's a powerful song, three different melodies woven together to create tension and drama. The song ends with the lights going out and the curtain dropping. The crowd erupts into thunderous applause and shouts of appreciation. The house lights come on and people mill about during intermission.

Pam rises from her seat, walking to the entrance of the box. She turns to look at me. "Are you coming? Don't you want something to drink?" I shake my head no; I need some time alone. Pam shrugs her shoulders but leaves the box. Tonight's performance is gut-wrenching; I'm reminded of every memory of Sookie and me as I watch her perform on the stage. But I'm also left with so many questions. Why is she performing on stage? The Sookie I knew didn't want to be a performer; she _hated_being the center of attention! When Sookie and I had broken up, she'd been in her final year at NYU and I knew she hadn't graduated from NYU. I checked every graduating class until I learned she was singing on Broadway about two years after I had left New York for good. I knew Sookie had an exceptional voice, but was surprised by how easy her jump to Broadway was. Sookie never worked in the chorus line or as a bit player like other struggling actors. Her first role on the stage had been a small but vital one. She'd followed that up with a co-starring role in a successful show that she did for about eighteen months before she left the show to join _Bayou Blues_. I knew the show was going to continue after Sookie left, but I hadn't heard any credible information about what her next move might be. There were talks that producers were trying to entice her to Hollywood, but I can't see Sookie wanting to do movies or film. Then again, I never imagined her on Broadway. I guess I really don't know her anymore, which is just another gaping wound I have because of my stupidity.

The door to the box flings open. I assume it is Pam with whatever refreshment she wanted since not many people are allowed in this area. Imagine my surprise when I hear a voice from the past.

"Mother fucker you've got some nerve bein' here tonight! Haven't you done enough to hurt my girl?"

Rising from my seat, I turn to greet the intruder. "Good evening Lafayette. It's good to see you again."


	4. Haunted by the Past

**Present Day**

"Bitch, you got thirty seconds to explain what you're doing here before I have you thrown out!" Lafayette stands aggressively at the entrance to the box, his hands curling and uncurling into fists. I knew better than anyone what those fists were capable of; I'd seen him use them a time or two while we tended bar together at Merlotte's. However, the most recent display of his strength was when he'd punched me in the face when I'd shown up at the house looking for Sookie.

"I came to see Sookie's last performance," I say quietly.

"You've got no business being here Northman," he says hotly. "Haven't you done enough to hurt that girl?"

"She doesn't need to know I'm here. I won't approach her. I'll be gone once the final curtain drops," I vow.

"It doesn't fucking matter," he says harshly. "You think all those paparazzi won't be snapping your picture, telling the world that you were among those that came to see the 'Darling of Broadway' in her last performance? Probably some of them will even speculate that there's a romance blossoming between the two of you," Lafayette says scathingly. "You don't think shit like that is gonna hurt her?!"

"I can't stay away Lafayette," I whisper brokenly. "I needed to see her; I -"

"Don't you dare say you love her! You lost all rights to loving her when you fucked that disease-ridden cunt you called a co-star and the paparazzi spread the story like goddamn wildfire." Lafayette's words are a slap in the face and my head jerks to the side as if he had actually hit me. He's right; I lost Sookie because of a moment's weakness. I know I'm not the first person in the world to cheat, but I did it on the public stage.

My shoulders slump in defeat and my head bows in shame. "I'll just wait for Pam to come back and then we'll go."

"No, you should stay," he says firmly. My head snaps up to look at him in wonder. He gestures towards the stage behind me. "Get a good look at Sookie on that stage. I want you to see how successful she has become. Look at how beautiful she is while she puts her heart and soul into every song she sings. And then I want you to realize that the gorgeous creature you see on that stage will never be yours again. I told you once before that you are a damn fool," he says contemptuously before leaving me alone with my agony.

_**Six years ago**_

My two-episode stint on _Law & Order: SVU _turned my career around. The network executives at NBC really likes what they saw out of me and an executive producer for a new show approached Pam with a role for me in a spin-off show they were developing called _FDNY_. I was offered the role of Jameson, a cocky, good-looking Irish guy that was the newbie in the firehouse. The character seemed superficial at first but then you realized Jameson was battling personal demons that led him to using alcohol, drugs, and women as coping mechanisms. It was a complex part and I jumped at the chance to take it. The cast was a blend of established actors as well as newcomers like me. The show was to début as part of NBC's fall lineup.

Working on _FDNY_ meant I had to quit working at Merlotte's. When I handed in my notice, Sam wasn't surprised to see me go; in fact, he was rather delighted I would no longer be working there. Asshole still carried a torch for Sookie, even though she and I were dating. My last night of work was a Saturday, I'd be starting work on _FDNY_ the following Wednesday. Sookie, as usual, sang her heart out for the customers and they ate it up. All the employees had pitched in to get me a cake and wish me congratulations after the bar was closed. It was a great surprise, but the best surprise of the night was when Sookie took the stage again to sing only for me. She sang_Can't Help Loving That Man of Mine_ without any accompaniment; it was a true torch song, one lover singing to another. Every ounce of feeling she had for me she put into that song and I couldn't look away. I was under her spell and I never wanted to be let go. By the time she finished singing for me, I needed her like I needed air to breathe. Sookie must have felt the same way because we hurriedly said good-night to everyone and rushed home. Normally we took the subway home, but that night we took a cab. I'm sure the cab driver got more than he bargained for because Sookie and I were all over each other in the backseat of his vehicle. It's a wonder we weren't arrested for indecent exposure or public lewdness. Sookie's lips had been firmly attached to mine during the ride home, and her hands worked diligently at unbuttoning my shirt. My hands had pulled her across my lap once we were in the backseat, and with the way her skirt fell I was able to thrust my cock against the material of her underwear. Feeling her quiver in my arms and moaning against my lips, I was fighting for control, fighting not to blow my load from dry humping alone.

I don't know how long it took us to realize the cab had been stopped outside our house. Sookie had been the one to pull away. My hands had been busy during the ride; the zipper of her dress was all the way down and my hands had been firmly attached to her breasts. She's turned around, giving the cab driver a wink before placing a hundred-dollar bill in the money holder, telling the driver to keep the change. Instantly she was off running up the steps to our home, leaving me to follow after her like the minx she was. I'd caught up with her as she was struggling to unlock the door. My hands slipped inside her open dress to pull her back against me, my fingers ghosting over her erect nipples. She cried out, in frustration or triumph I don't know, but she pushed the door open so we could stumble inside. I pushed her against the door when we got inside, capturing her lips in a bruising, needy kiss as my hands linked with hers above our heads. Sookie was like a cat in heat rubbing her body against me so she could get some friction, some sense of relief from the inferno building between us.

By some miracle, we made it up the stairs to my bedroom, though upon inspection the next morning, there was evidence that our trek upstairs was a bit destructive since pictures were hanging crooked on the stairwell and Sookie's dress had ended up dangling over the banister. For all our urgency in the cab and up the stairs, we moved as if we were under water once in my room. Our first time together was everything they write about in romance novels: tender, earth-shattering, loving, you name it and the cheesy analogy applies. I didn't care; I was happy to have Sookie finally in my arms, her head resting over my heart. And her whispered "I love you" was the most life-changing moment of my life. I was young, in love, and I thought my life was perfect.

And for a few weeks it was. Sookie and I spent as much time together as possible. It got harder and harder though given the demands of the shooting schedule and her schedule with school. She was entering her last year at NYU, and it was going to be the hardest yet. She needed to do an internship with an architecture firm and she still worked at Merlotte's on the weekends. For the first few months, things were going great.

Things began to change as the show gained in popularity. We were on Wednesday nights, with the only established show being Criminal Minds. Wednesday nights had been weak for several years. _Law and Order: SVU_was going to be on before us and then _FDNY_ would be on at ten. Our ratings in week one weren't that great, but our ratings grew weeks two and three; by week four, we were dominating our time slot, and Pam said it had all to do with me.

In the episode for week three, there had been a scene in the shower where I was completely nude. It was network TV so nothing in the front was shown, but my backside was on display for the world to see. I'm Swedish; I have no problems with nudity so for me it wasn't a big deal. But it was a big deal for the people who watched. Our viewership jumped among women in the all-important 18 to 45 age groups. Suddenly, everyone wanted a piece of me: entertainment shows, magazines, paparazzi, and the screaming hoards of female fans that started following me everywhere I went. The show was so successful that we were picked up for a second season, and we were all grateful for it. Pam said the show was my security blanket; it gave me the freedom to pick what projects I would work on. As I told Lafayette, the show gave me "fuck you" money, the ability to do what I wanted when I wanted to. However, I was more excited to see so many scripts coming in for me to read. One script in particular caught my eye: it was the role of Alexander, a thousand-year old vampire. It was a minor role in the first movie of _The Vampire Mysteries_ saga, but the character gained importance as the story continued. The movies were based on the New York Time's bestselling novels, and the fans are quite rabid when it comes to their ideas of who should be playing the characters. Backlash has been rampant on the internet because fans were unhappy with the casting of the two leads, Freyda de Castro and William Compton. When I was cast as Alexander, the fans were generally accepting of me.

There was just one problem; shooting for the movie began before I would finish shooting on _FDNY_. When Pam approached the producers, they were willing to adjust my scenes so I could film them in a cluster Monday through Thursday. After finishing on Thursday, I would then fly to Louisiana, where the movie was filming, to do all the necessary preproduction work. Sunday night, I'd fly back to New York to do it all over again. It was a grueling schedule and I was exhausted because this went on for about six weeks and then I flew to Louisiana to actually film the movie.

Professionally, I was flying high; personally, Sookie and I were going through a rough patch. We hadn't spent any significant time together in weeks. Our relationship was playing out over phone calls and text messages. Even when I was in New York, I was busy on the set of _FDNY_. When I was home, all I wanted to do was sleep. Sookie was busy with her own life too. She was gearing up for graduation, and things had gotten so busy for her she actually cut back at Merlotte's, working only two weekends a month. Tension and petty arguments were springing up between us. Sookie had never been comfortable with the amount of attention I started gaining, especially from women. We had been out several times where overzealous women would throw themselves at me, disregarding the fact Sookie was even there. One time I thought she was going to choke a bitch when a woman tried to unbuckle my belt and pants so she could see if I looked as good as I did on TV. It angered Sookie even more that I seemed to get off on all the attention; she said I could prevent them from acting that way if I wanted but my ego wouldn't allow it.

Looking back at it, she was right. I _wanted_ the attention; I _wanted_ the fame and notoriety. So when the gossip rags were spreading rumors that Freyda and I were having an on-set romance, I laughed it off. Sookie was pissed when she heard the rumors. Freyda de Castro had a reputation for going after all of her leading men, so Sookie was adamant that Freyda really was trying to make a play for me. I assured Sookie that nothing was going on. The pictures they had were taken from the set, scenes where Anna (Freyda's character) and Alexander had sexual tension. One scene even involved the two of us kissing. If Sookie was so worried, I told her she could come down to the set to see with her own eyes what was going on. Freyda was nothing more than a friend. Sookie agreed to come down for a long weekend when school was on spring break.

The week Sookie was to come down to the set I was like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa Claus to arrive. The director was kind enough to work the schedule so that I could have off Thursday through Sunday, the length of Sookie's visit. Everyone on the cast and crew knew about Sookie; I spent all my time talking about her. The girls in make-up and wardrobe thought it was really cute how in love I was with my girlfriend. I had big plans for when Sookie arrived. Because we hadn't really had time together in the last few months, I wanted to show her how much I loved her. I'd planned a romantic weekend for us at a local bed and breakfast and I was pulling out all the stops: flowers, chocolates, massages, everything to show her I loved her and needed her. At the end of the weekend, I was going to propose. Pam had come with me to pick out the ring from Tiffany & Co. before I left New York. The ring was perfect for Sookie, simple, elegant, but dazzling. I couldn't wait to see it on her hand, letting the world know she was mine.

It was Wednesday night before Sookie was scheduled to arrive. I'd been working long hours to make up for the time off I needed. I was exhausted, but it was worth it; I was going to be with my Sookie for four days. Filming would be wrapping up sometime in May, right around the time of Sookie's graduation. I planned to take the rest of the summer off until I had to begin shooting season two of NYFD. My plan was to take Sookie to Sweden as a graduation present so she could meet my parents and then we'd spend time around Europe. Wherever she wanted to go, I was more than willing to take her. Sookie's never been to Europe, so I wanted to show her everything.

It was nearly midnight when I got back to my trailer after filming my scenes for the day, and the first thing I did was check my cell phone. I had a text message from Sookie asking me to call her when I could. With furrowed brow, I dialed my lover's number. It took several rings before she picked up, and when she did, my stomach dropped down to my feet.

"Hello." Instead of the beautiful Southern lilt I'm used to, a bullfrog greeted me.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I've been feeling tired and run down the last few days, burning the candle at both ends so I could come see you without having to bring any school work with me. I woke up this morning feeling like my stomach was a ship being tossed around on the high seas. I've been throwing up all day, and I can't keep anything down," Sookie whines pitifully. I feel awful for her because she's sick and I'm not there to take care of her. But part of me wants to break down and cry because she won't be coming down here. I miss her so fucking much!

"Baby it sounds like you have the flu. You need to eat some chicken noodle soup, drink lots of fluids, and get some rest. Doctor's orders," I say firmly.

"Ooohhh, paging Dr. Northman," Sookie says trying to be seductive but ends up coughing.

"Lover, go back to bed. I'll call tomorrow to check on you. Don't even think about getting on that plane tomorrow to come down here. I want you to stay home and get better. That's an order!"

"But baby, what about our weekend together?"

"Sookie, you're sick. You need to take care of yourself or else you'll just get worse. I'm sorry we won't get to see each other, but filming will be over next month. I'll be home in time for your graduation and then I'm all yours for the summer. I have plans for you Miss Stackhouse," I say with a wiggle of my eyebrows even though she can't see me.

"Is that so Mr. Northman?" She ends up coughing again, and I sigh with regret. Once she's back on the phone I tell her I love her and tell her to get better soon. She tells me she loves me and apologizes for ruining our weekend.

"Is this seat taken?" My bleary eyes turn towards the voice beside me. Freyda is standing beside me in jeans and a sweater. I gesticulate wildly for her to have a seat in the bar stool beside me. It's Thursday night; if things had gone to plan, Sookie and I would have been entwined in the bed of our hotel room, making love all night long. Instead, the love of my life is in New York City with the flu and I'm sitting in the hotel bar getting drunk off my ass. I was here when the bar opened at 3:00 pm; it's now 10:00 pm and I'm shitfaced.

The bartender comes over and Freyda orders a martini. Once she has her drink, she turns to me with a smile. "I thought you had plans for your days off. What are you doing drinking here?"

"Sookie's home with the flu," I mumble against the rim of my glass. The vodka is smooth as it slides down my throat. It's done wonders to dull the pain I feel at not having Sookie here with me.

"Oh I'm so sorry! I know how much you were looking forward to having her down here." Freyda places a hand on my forearm and squeezes it comfortingly.

I drop my glass against the bar and turn to her with a gloomy expression. "Between the show and this film, I haven't spent any significant time with Sookie in months. The limited time we had together before I left New York felt hurried; we didn't really have the emotional attachment like we did before. This weekend was going to be our chance to reconnect. I was going to propose." My lips tremble with the need to cry; instead I slam back the rest of my drink and tap the bar for the bartender to give me another one.

"Hmmm, you poor thing!" Freyda squeezes my forearm again and gives me a sad smile. "I remember what it's like to be in the business while the person you love isn't. They don't really understand the demands on your time that this job requires. Outsiders don't understand what it's like to always be in the public eye, to live your life in a fish bowl. They don't understand how you loathe and love the paparazzi at the same time," Freyda says with a faraway look on her face. She smiles at me softly before downing her own drink.

I don't remember the rest of the evening. Freyda and I continued to drink in the hotel bar for hours. At one point, I know she tried to make a move on me and I turned her down. So I have no idea how the fuck I ended up in her hotel room naked as a jaybird. Freyda is asleep next to me, wearing only her bra and she has the worst case of sex hair I've ever seen.

What the fuck have I done?!

I bolt out of the bed and nearly collapse from the intense pain starting at the base of my skull and spreading up the back of my head. It feels like the Seven Fucking Dwarfs are mining for diamonds in my head. Of course, the pain in my head is not to be outdone by the nausea. Stumbling, I hurriedly find my clothes, slipping my jeans and t-shirt on. Carrying my shoes, I leave Freyda's room quietly, closing the door behind me as softly as possible. I breathe a sigh of relief as I get out of the room without waking Freyda and make my way to the elevator without passing another person in the hallway. I press the button for my floor and lean against the wall in defeat. Once on my floor, I walk down the hallway like a man on death row. I enter my room, closing the door wearily. Heaving sobs rack my body as I slide down the door to curl up on the floor. As I cry, I scream at myself for being stupid, for being weak.

Time passes, how much I don't know. I crawl my way to the bathroom, needing to expel the contents of my stomach, hoping that it will also purge my sins. After I have nothing left to give, I take a shower, which goes a long way to healing the damage to my body but does nothing to heal the damage to my heart. However, I formulate a plan of action. Snapping off the water, I wrap a towel around my waist and call the airlines. There is a flight leaving for New York City in two hours and I plan to be on it.

I don't even bother with luggage; I get dressed and go. The valet has a cab waiting for me by one of the side exits so I don't have to deal with the paparazzi. The locals know that the movie has set up camp in this hotel, so there are always people milling around trying to get pictures of us. I get to the airport with enough time to get my ticket, go through security, and board the flight. The flight is three hours long; three hours for me to torture myself with thoughts of Sookie. I have to tell her what I've done; I owe it to her to be honest. I know she's going to be hurt and angry, and she has every right to be. But I will do whatever it takes to fix this, to make her realize how sorry I am, how much I love her. I don't know why I cheated, I have no excuse.

Five hours after leaving my hotel in New Orleans, I'm in a cab pulling up outside the brownstone where we live. I frown when I see the group of paparazzi on the sidewalk. What the fuck are they doing here? I pay the cab driver and hustle through the crowd, not bothering to say anything to them and not paying any attention to what they are saying to me. My focus is solely on getting through that door and laying my heart bare to Sookie.

Using my key, I unlock the door and slip inside. I close the door with a sigh and lean my head back against the door. Gathering up my courage, I push off the door to walk up the stairs to find Sookie. However, I don't get very far because Lafayette is standing at the top of the stairs.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" His arms are crossed over his chest, and if looks could kill, I would be a puddle of goo on the floor.

"I need to talk to Sookie," I say wearily as I begin climbing the stairs.

"She doesn't need or want to hear a damn thing you've got to say! The photographs said it all for you," he says as he comes down the steps, blocking my path.

I stop with my foot raised, feeling as if my heart stopped beating. What photographs? "Lafayette, you gotta let me talk to Sookie!" Panic rises, threatening to choke me. I can't breathe.

"No, I don't," he says moving to block my path with his legs spread and arms crossed. "You need to get your shit and get out. You're not welcome here anymore," he says coldly.

"Lala, please," I beg. "Let me talk to Sookie. Let me apologize. I need to make this right."

"Ain't no way you can make this right asshole! Now either you can leave here on your own two legs, or I can throw your ass out. The choice is yours." Lafayette's voice is menacing, as if he wants the chance to hurt me. But nothing he can do to me will hurt nearly as much as knowing that I've lost Sookie for good.


	5. Unexpected Company

"Well that went better than I expected," Pam says sarcastically as she returns to the box with two drinks in her hands. She keeps the glass of champagne for herself and offers me the tumbler full of clear liquid. I need something to dull this burning pain inside me. Taking the offered drink, I swallow the contents quickly, hoping to numb the pain. But I know better; nothing I've done over the years makes this ache and emptiness go away. Women, booze, drugs . . . nothing has worked. I may get a brief respite, but when the pain returns it's more intense, more crippling.

"How did you know he was here?" My voice is hollow; I've completely shut down so I can make it through the next few hours. I will break down in the privacy of my hotel room; it won't be the first time I've destroyed a hotel room in a fit of rage and grief.

"I saw him in the lobby," Pam says in a hushed voice. Her usual snark is absent as she stares at me worriedly. Nothing in this world affects me anymore, except for Sookie. I've become a shell of a man, nothing more than what the world expects me to be. After my indiscretion with Freyda hit the internet and entertainment news outlets, my fate was sealed. The paparazzi hounded me relentlessly trying to find who would be my next conquest. The pictures of Freyda and I were tame compared to many I've seen of others, but they painted a very clear picture of what happened. The images show us drinking in the bar; Freyda leaning in to kiss me, then the two of us stumbling to the elevator together. The next set of pictures show me leaving her hotel room the next morning looking disheveled. I've stared at those images a thousands of time trying to force the memories of that night to the surface 0f my brain but they never do. The last thing I remember from that night is telling Freyda I wasn't interested when she tried to kiss me. There is nothing after that until I woke up the next morning beside her.

After Lafayette threw me out of the house, I returned to Louisiana. Pam had been one of the many messages on my phone that I'd ignored. I had finally called her back as I sat in the airport waiting for my flight. She berated me for being a damn fool, but proved herself a true friend when she offered to get my things from the house. As much as I wanted to go back there and see Sookie, talk to her and apologize for my stupidity, I couldn't. Hurting her even more was not something I wanted to do. Maybe it was cowardly and maybe it was selfish, but I stayed away. I thought and prayed that she would seek me out when she was ready. That day never came.

The lights in the theater flicker, indicating it is time for everyone to return to their seats. Pam stands indecisively by the door. "Do you want to go?"

I shake my head no. Running my hand over my face, I sigh in resignation. "We'll stay and see the rest of the show. And when it's over, I will finally close the chapter of my life that is Sookie Stackhouse. I have to let her go," I say brokenly.

True to my word, we stayed to see the rest of the show. I felt like my heart shattered when the last curtain dropped and the lights came back on. Pam hustled me out of the theater and into a taxi that took us back to The Plaza. She was very concerned for me, but I told her I would be fine. Pam is the only friend I can truly count on. She has seen me at my absolute worst and has always been there to help pick me back up. I can never express my appreciation for her, though I try by giving her designer clothes, shoes, and handbags.

During the final act of _Bayou Blues_, I memorized every detail of Sookie I could. I love her; I will **always** love her, but I cannot cling to her memory anymore. I have to move on with my life. To do that, I need to get away; I need to clear my head. So once back in my hotel room, I pack my few possessions and check out. Before leaving the hotel, I leave a message at the front desk for Pam so she won't worry. There are a few weeks until I am due to start filming the fourth installment of _The Vampire Mysteries Saga_, and I intend to use the time to straighten out my personal life. I need to get in the right frame of mind so I'm not completely miserable while filming the upcoming movie.

In truth, I loathe filming these movies now; they are my biggest success as an actor, but to me, they represent everything I've lost in my personal life. This film will be especially trying because it's the film where Alexander and Anna finally admit their love for each other. The thought of having to pretend to love Freyda sickens me; I want to cringe every time I am forced to touch her. And the fact that our characters share several intimate scenes in this movie nauseates me. Freyda has tried to rekindle our "romance" as she calls it several times over the years, but I have no interest. She thinks we should give everyone what they want and be a couple in real life as well as onscreen. Have I mentioned that she's a psychotic bitch?

Grabbing a taxi, I head for Newark Liberty International Airport; during the trip from the theater to the hotel, I'd booked a red-eye flight to London. I need to get out of the country for a bit. From London, I'm going home to Sweden. It's been years since I've been back; I used work as my excuse to my friends and family. The reality of the situation is I've been avoiding my Mor and Mormor; both of these women know me inside and out. They will take one look at me and demand to know what's wrong. I haven't wanted to bare my heart and soul to them, but it's time I finally did. I need to make my peace with the fact I have lost Sookie and will never get her back in my life.

"Cut! That's great guys; we'll wrap for the day. Thanks everyone for all your hard work today!" The director's words are a relief to everyone on the set after what's been a grueling sixteen-hour shoot. I'd gotten to the set last night around dinner time. While I was getting hair, make-up, and wardrobe done, news had trickled to us that the weather was going to be ideal the next few days to film the scenes where my character Alexander will be swimming in the sunlight, protected from burning thanks to the fairy blood he consumed. These scenes were continually being scraped due to poor weather which I was personally thankful for. I am Swedish and used to cold weather, but there is no way in hell I was looking forward to being submerged while naked in freezing water. It's bad enough that being around Freyda makes my cock and balls want to shrivel up and die.

Shooting this time around has been a miserable experience for everyone involved. The weather has been an issue and has put us behind schedule and over budget. Freyda especially has been difficult to deal with during the delays. Her well-documented issues with alcohol, and I now suspect drugs, have caused her to be late, mess up her lines, or not show up at all, putting the entire production behind the eight-ball. Every day I am thankful I went to Sweden when I did; I wouldn't have been able to make it through this film otherwise.

Confession really is good for the soul. As I'd suspected Mor and Mormor tag-teamed me to get me to spill the beans about what was wrong. It was cathartic to finally explain everything that had happened with Sookie, to at last have someone hear my side of the story without judging me. As only a mother could, Mor had wrapped her arms around me in comfort as I cried. And my Mormor was absolutely amazing too! She had wanted to come back to the States with me so she could kick Freyda's ass. Mormor said Freyda was to blame for everything that happened, that there is no way I would have willingly cheated on Sookie if I loved her as much as I claimed to. I wish I could have my Mormor's unshakeable faith in me, but I know I am ultimately responsible for what happened.

"Hey bro! You wanna go grab some breakfast?" My costar, Alcide Herveaux, calls to me from across the set. He joined the cast for the third film as Joe, a werewolf my character brought in to protect Anna from my enemies. Of course, the move backfired on my character as he became Anna's love interest. The scenes between Alexander and Joe in the third movie were intense and charged, and I was really happy with how they turned out. Personally, I am happy to have met Joe; he is a happy-go-lucky guy that is great to have on set. He keeps things light and fun. Also, he's been instrumental in me changing my diet and workout routine. The only two things I've ever seen Joe be serious about are taking care of his body and his sports teams. I learned the hard way that Joe is a die-hard Pittsburgh sports fan. We came to the gentlemen's agreement that we will not watch hockey together; he's a Penguins fan and I tend to favor the L.A. Kings.

"Sounds good to me; I haven't had anything real to eat since dinner last night." I'd managed to pick things here and there from craft services, but it was hard to find time to eat a full meal since I was required in every scene we'd shot. "Give me time to shower the lake water off me. I'll meet you at your car in thirty minutes. You're driving," I shout to him as I take off running for my trailer.

Thirty minutes later, Alcide is driving his pick-up truck along the highway taking us back to New Orleans. For this shoot, Al and I decided to share a house. I don't stay in hotels anymore when shooting films unless necessary. He's taking us to The Old Coffeepot Restaurant, which boasts the best breakfast in the French Quarter. Al found the place because of _Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives_; that and _Man vs. Food_ are his two favorite TV shows. We've been there at least twice a week since we began shooting the movie. Al and I have gotten to know each other a lot better while living together. Sometimes I think I've gotten to know him a little too well . . . like the time I came home from filming to find him practicing stripping in the living room. After Al wraps filming his part of the movie, he's taking off to shoot a movie about male strippers. I've got no problems with nudity and I'm very open when it comes to sexuality. But I never again want to see Al shaking his G-string covered hairy ass and thrusting his cock while dancing to Justin Timberlake's _Sexyback_. I'm still having nightmares about that one.

Al parks the truck and we walk a few blocks to the restaurant. Even though it's a weekday, the restaurant is still pretty busy. A waitress greets us and escorts us to a table along the wall. We've been here enough that our appearance doesn't cause a reaction among those that recognize us. Al and I peruse the menu in silence while we wait for our waitress to bring our drinks. The night's filming required a lot of physical activity from me so I feel like I can eat two of everything on the menu. I'm going to get Sis' Soul Food, an omelet with pretty much everything in it, and Lost Bread, the Creole version of French toast.

Al and I place our orders – he orders two entrées as well – and then we talk shop to fill the time. So far, I haven't had too many scenes with Freyda so I've enjoyed working on this film with the exception of the schedule delays. Thankfully, I don't have another film lined up immediately after this one, though I do have a stack of scripts to read through that Pam sent me last week. She said she needs answers by the end of this week. I haven't even glanced at them; I've been too tired due to the grueling schedule the last few days. Maybe Al will help me out. I don't mind big-budget films, but I'm feeling a bit antsy lately, like I want to switch gears and do something on a smaller-scale. I'm feeling the itch to do something smaller, something more artistic and dramatic. Maybe an independent film, hell maybe I'll even go back to TV.

I managed to stay on _FDNY _for four seasons before the demands of my film career were interfering with the show's schedule. I felt really guilty for abandoning the show; I was the most popular character on there, so I was worried my leaving would cause the show to die out. I didn't want my fellow cast members or crew to be out of a job because I was moving on to other projects. Thankfully that didn't happen; the show is still doing well entering their seventh season. The show's creators had written my character off in such a way that I can go back if I want to. My character, Jameson, left the firehouse to enter rehab. He'd been under the influence when responding to a call and his delayed reactions had resulted in injuries to himself and several others in the firehouse. My last episode had been a tear-jerker, and I thought it was one of the finest performances of my career. Others must have thought so too because I was nominated for both an Emmy and a Golden Globe. It would have been nice to win, but I didn't and I was OK with that.

Our food arrives; we dig in with gusto and all talking ceases. While we are eating, an adorable little girl comes over to our table. She has wispy blonde hair that refuses to stay inside the clips holding her hair back from her face. Her face is absolutely beautiful; chubby cheeks with a hint of pink, smooth ivory skin, and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen. She's tall for her age and everything is covered by a cutesy dress and tights. Her smile is infectiously happy; Al and I are both smiling broadly at her.

"Hi," she says in a surprisingly confident voice.

"Well hello to you too Princess," I say after swallowing my food. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs her shoulders, rolls her eyes, and sighs in exasperation. Al and I laugh seeing such actions from one so young; this girl is going to be a handful when she gets older. I pity her parents because she is going to have all the boys chasing after her. "I'm waitin' for my uncle. He's in the bathroom. That can take a while," she says with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose. We laugh again.

Our waitress comes back to the table to refill our coffee and check if we need anything else. "Allie what are you doin' over here sweetie?" If the waitress knows the girl, she must be a regular.

The girl known as Allie rolls her eyes again. "Uncle Jay's in the bathroom. It feels like he's been gone FOREVER! I got tired of waitin'."

The waitress shakes her head at the girl. "So you decided to talk to strangers? Your momma is gonna whip your behind for that!" Our waitress does make a valid point. Al and I are harmless but you never know what types of sick fucks are out in the world.

Allie shrugs again. "I've seen them in here before. And they're famous; not like they're gonna hurt me. DUH!"

Alcide laughs heartily. "How do you know we're famous?"

"I've seen your pictures on magazines."

I smile at the precocious child and gesture towards a vacant chair. "Well Allie do you want to join us while you wait for your uncle? We can get you something to drink. Maybe some fruit?" The waitress says she knows what the girl likes and will bring it right out. Allie climbs up in the chair beside Al so she can keep an eye on the door.

"Why are you keeping an eye on the door?" Alcide offers her half of a biscuit slathered in butter and honey, which she eagerly takes.

"Mama's coming to join us for breakfast. She had a meetin' this mornin' but said she'd meet us here. It's my favorite place for breakfast in New Orleans! We come here every time we're in town," she says around mouthfuls of food. Our waitress comes back with a large glass of chocolate milk and a plate of strawberries, banana slices, and grapes for Allie. She's too cute as she eats; she wiggles around like she's dancing and hums while she eats. Alcide and I are completely enchanted by Allie. I haven't had the occasion to be around children much, but I like her; it makes me think about having children of my own someday.

Allie grins widely, revealing a gap where a tooth is missing and waves her arm animatedly. "Mama's here!"

Alcide is facing the door so he can see exactly who Allie is talking about. She must be attractive because Al's mouth drops open and his fork clatters against the plate; he looks dumbfounded. The click-click of high heels against the tile floor has me turning slightly in my chair so I can greet the mother of the delightful child that has graced us with her presence. Once I shift in my chair, the steps falter. Maybe the woman is nervous to see her daughter with two strangers; maybe she's star-struck because she realizes who her daughter is with. I make sure my smile is friendly as I go to introduce myself to Allie's mother.

But an introduction is not needed. My smile fades and I too am left with a dumbfounded look on my face. I feel as if I've been dropped in an ice bath. The air is completely sucked out of my chest so that I feel like I am suffocating and it feels as if thousands of sharp tiny knives are jabbing repeatedly at every inch of my body. I am frozen; I don't know how to react. What do I say? Never would I have expected that the first time we came face-to-face after all these years would be like this.

"Hello Eric," the voice that haunts my dreams says quietly.

"Hello Sookie."


	6. Revelations

_Hello Sookie._

All these years apart and that's the only thing I can think of to say to her?! I've dreamed so many times of everything I would say if ever I got the chance and all of them fly right out of my head. I'm flabbergasted! I know a conversation is going on around me, but I haven't a fucking clue what's being said. Sookie is here, standing uncomfortably beside me. She hasn't glanced my way once after our first greeting, but my eyes haven't left her for a second. Hell, I don't think I've blinked for fear that if I close my eyes she will disappear. Being this close to her makes me want to wrap my arms around her and never let go, keeping her in my embrace until she's accepted every last apology I need to make and realizes that I still love her, I never stopped loving her; I will always love her.

"Baby girl, why are you sitting here with two strangers? Where's your uncle? He's a dead man when I get my hands on him," Sookie fumes.

_Baby girl?_

_Uncle? _

All my happiness at seeing Sookie fades as I process her words. Sookie is Allie's mother?! It feels as if someone's shoved a stick of dynamite in my heart because it explodes in a bloody, sloppy mess. Sookie has a child . . . does that mean she has a husband? My eyes snap down to her left hand, but it's concealed from my view. The savage beast in me wants to grab her hand to know who has laid claim to the woman I love. I want to rip the ring off her finger, if there is one, and destroy the man that put it there. The only ring that should ever be on her finger is the one I still carry with me. I bet it was that asshole Merlotte! He was in love with Sookie for years; he would be the type of dick to swoop in while Sookie was heartbroken and take advantage of her fragile state. I will kill that mother fucker!

"Uncle Jay's in the bathroom Mama," Allie says with that adorable wrinkle of her nose. Looking at her now, I'm trying to see if I can see any sign of Merlotte in Allie's features. But the girl is a carbon copy of her mother.

"Oh good lord! They are gonna have to demolish that bathroom when he's finished," Sookie says with sympathy. "Well, come on darlin'. You've already intruded enough on these nice gentlemen's time. Thank you both for lookin' after her. Let me buy your breakfast; it's the least I can do," Sookie says while reaching for her wallet. I can't let her leave; I have so much I want to say to her. I need more time.

"It's no trouble at all," I say hoping to draw her attention to me. "In fact, why don't you and Allie join us?" Sookie's eyes finally swing to mine and she looks like a deer caught in headlights. My battered heart clenches seeing her look, she is afraid. I remember a time when this girl was fearless, when she faced everything head on; she was like a battering ram. She would push through everything to come out on the other side. Did I do this to her?

"That's awfully nice of you, but I . . ." Sookie is cut off by her daughter's pleading voice.

"Can't we stay here and have breakfast? _Puh-leaseeeeee_Mama," Allie asks while batting her baby blues at her mother and sticking her lower lip out in a pout. Oh my God; how can Sookie resist giving this child anything when she looks like that?

Before Sookie can respond, a man shows up at our table. He looks exactly like he did in the pictures Sookie had in her room all those years ago, so this must be the missing Jason Stackhouse. The only difference I can see in the man before me and the pictures from seven years ago is the wedding band on his left hand.

"Oh hey Sis. What are ya doin' over her? I got us a table in the back," he says gesturing towards the back of the restaurant.

"Jason Corbett Stackhouse," Sookie says in her best mom voice and places her hands on her hips while staring at him accusingly. "How could you leave Allison alone at a table? She wondered off and ended up here. I oughta tell Gran what you did; she'll make you go get a switch from the backyard!" Sookie looks completely irritated with her brother and I don't blame her. If it were my daughter, I'd be completely enraged if someone had left my child unattended and at the mercy of strangers.

"Ah hell Sook, I'm sorry," her brother says sheepishly. "Please don't say anything! Holly's already worried enough about being pregnant. You tell her this she might never give birth to my kid!"

Sookie snorts as a smile spreads across her face. "I don't think she'll have much choice when her water breaks. When the kid wants out, the kid wants out!" Sookie looks fondly at her daughter who's finished her plate of fruit and glass of milk. "Are you full Allie?" Allie shakes her head. "Well, let's go then. I'm not really hungry and we have lots of shopping to do. Uncle Jason can stay here and have breakfast while we get started."

Allie turns in her chair to give Alcide a big hug, which he happily returns. Allie then slides out of her chair to come to my side of the table. She stretches her arms wide to give me a hug and I carefully enfold her in my embrace as I pick her up. My heart clenches with longing and I have to drop my head against Allie's shoulder. This could have been my daughter; Sookie and I could have been parents to this sweet angelic child. We could have been the ones to go to breakfast as a family after a long night of filming. My eyes are wet with tears as I set Allison back on her feet. When I chance a glance at Sookie she too looks ready to cry and I feel so fucking horrible.

"Thank you both again for taking care of my daughter," she says in a voice barely above a whisper. She takes hold of Allison's hand and nods at her brother who goes back to his table. My heart feels like it is shattering all over again as I watch them walk out of the restaurant. I cannot watch her walk out of my life again; this might be the last time I see her and I cannot leave it like this. Rising so quickly my chair topples over, I rush out of the restaurant, leaving an astonished Alcide sitting at the table. I put my long legs to good use as I easily catch up with them outside of the restaurant.

"Sookie wait!"

Hearing my voice makes her stop walking but she does not turn around. I close the distance between us and quickly move to her side. Sookie looks panicked to see me. It hurts to see her react this way to me, but it is no less than I deserve.

"What do you want Eric?" Her voice breaks our silent stare down. My first response is to tell her I want everything. I want to know that she is mine again, that she loves me as I love her. I want to tell her I'm so sorry for fucking everything up, that I'm sorry we aren't a family. But all of those words get in my throat, and her expression morphs to one of tired resignation. "Go away Eric. After all this time you still don't know what to say." Sookie moves to step around me with Allie, but I grab her arm to stop them from leaving.

"Please don't go," I say desperately. I rake my hand through my hair in frustration after dropping my hold on her arm. "You've caught me off-guard, alright; I've practiced so many times what I wanted to say if I ever saw you and it's all gone out the window. I just want the chance to talk to you, to apologize for everything."

"Apology accepted," she says quickly, too quickly. I know she is trying to get away from me, but I can't let her walk away like this. I think we both need to have this discussion; maybe it's the closure we both need.

"Sookie please," I beg. "Just hear me out once and then I swear to you, I won't ever bug you again."

Her eyes drop down from my face to stare at her daughter who has remained silent during our tense conversation. When she looks back at me, I see the resolve in her eyes. "Not right now; I will not have this conversation on the street for everyone to overhear."

I nod in agreement. "Tell me where and when."

"We're staying at Le Pavillion through the end of the week. Sometime in the afternoon," she finally tells me.

"Tomorrow?" I know I'm eager, but I've been waiting years for this chance. I'd do it today, but I need time to gather my thoughts, make sure I say everything I have wanted to say for years. This is my only chance and I'm not going to screw it up. Sookie has always had a way of overwhelming me. I feel that if we talk today, I'll only screw it up.

"Fine; three o'clock," she tells me before walking off. Allie waves at me over her shoulder before they disappear around the corner.

Feeling as if I'm walking to the gallows, I walk slowly back to the restaurant to find Alcide waiting outside. He's looking at me with worry in his eyes. "You wanna tell me why you took off like your ass was on fire?"

"It's complicated," I sigh out as we walk to his truck. I don't know if I want to tell him everything.

"It usually is when a woman's involved," he says sagely. We get in the truck silently. Her starts the engine and we drive off as the silence between us continues.

"She's the one that got away," I tell him when we stop at a red light. "I fucked everything up and lost her. I've been pining for her every day for the last six years," I admit with a sigh as I close my eyes and lean my head against the headrest.

"Huh," Alcide says as if he is pondering the greatest mysteries of life. "You know, I never would have pegged you as the type to abandon your own kid," he says scathingly before punching the accelerator after the light turned green.

My eyes snap open and my head whips to the side. "What the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a kid!"

Alcide flicks his eyes towards me as he drives. "That little girl is five or six years old. Do the math genius!"

"No, you're wrong," I state unequivocally. "Sookie would have told me if she were pregnant." However, there is something nagging at my memory. My last conversation with Sookie replays in my mind. She was tired, vomiting, and feeling run down. What if it wasn't the flu? What if she had been pregnant and didn't know it? We'd always been careful about birth control, but that didn't mean accidents couldn't happen.

"Mother fucker! She never told me!" More importantly, was she ever going to tell me?


	7. Clearing the Air

For over twenty-four hours, only one thought has preyed on my mind: Sookie and I have a daughter. How could she not tell me? I know our relationship didn't end well, but did she honestly think it fair to punish me by keeping my daughter from me? Hurt, anger, and bewilderment are the three emotions I keep cycling between.

Alcide was a good sounding board for the rest of the ride and some of our morning at the house, but eventually he needed to sleep as exhaustion claimed him. I too needed sleep as I would be filming again in the evening, but sleep never claimed me. Somehow, I made my way through shooting, but I know it isn't my finest work. It does help that we were filming fight scenes, so I got to release some aggression. The downside was that Freyda was also requires for the scenes. However, I did not have to interact with her. If I had, I would have more than likely done something I would come to regret.

Once I finished filming that night, I returned to the house I shared with Alcide. I showered and dressed for my meeting with Sookie and then I waited. It is barely nine in the morning; I still had six hours to wait until my meeting with Sookie. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself until then? I think about calling Pam to talk everything over, but I am reluctant to do that. Pam is a good friend, but she really isn't one for warm, fuzzy feelings. I think she would consider it a blessing not to be saddled with a kid. Plus, she would probably only look at it in terms of how it will affect my career. She can be a cold bitch sometimes.

Scrolling through my contacts, I dial the one person I know will give me sound advice. The phone rings three times before someone picks up on the other end.

"This better be a matter of life and death to interrupt my card game," my Mormor's aged voice says in a slight growl.

"I'm sorry Mormor, but I need some advice."

"Eric? Hang on a minute." The noises in the background are suddenly loud as I hear what sounds like stacks of poker chips being shoved in a bag. Mormor speaks in rapid Swedish as she bids her friends good-bye. Every afternoon between two and five, Mormor and her friends meet at the same café they have gone to for twenty-five years. They have lunch, gossip, play cards, and drink. I can remember more than one occasion where Mor, I, or my siblings would have to escort a tipsy Mormor home.

"Sorry lad; I needed to make sure those vultures didn't steal any of my chips!" I smile thinking of those sweet little ladies she calls vultures; they've been friends for decades and would do anything for each other. But when it comes to their card games, all bets are off so to speak.

"Now, what do you need advice on? It must be bad if you are calling me and not your mother."

"It's about Sookie," I begin only to be cut off.

"Do whatever it takes to get her back," Mormor declares emphatically. "Stop sitting on your ass and go after her! You love her. You think that kind of love happens more than once in a lifetime? Hell boy, most people never find that type of love!"

"Mormor that's not what I'm calling about," I say breaking through her tirade. "I saw Sookie yesterday . . . with her daughter . . . I think it is _our_daughter," I say as my voice fills with emotion. The line stays silent so long I'm starting to think we lost our connection. I check to make sure we haven't dropped the call and see the call timer still ticking.

"Mormor, are you there?" Christ! Did something just happen to my eighty-something grandmother because of what I said?

"Oh what a tangled web we weave," she says after a few minutes. Mormor was a teacher of literature and language for many years. She often quotes famous literary works just because she can. I sigh deeply because a recitation of _Marimon_ by Sir Walter Scott is really not what I need now.

"You're like a herring caught in a net Eric," she continues. "You were trapped and have spent time wriggling around trying to break free. Now you are about to be cooked for dinner!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Has Mormor gone senile? Maybe dementia is kicking in.

"Eric do you honestly think Sookie kept your daughter from you?"

"The Sookie I knew wouldn't have, but I don't know who she is now," I admit forlornly.

"I think you still know her," Mormor says reassuringly. "People don't change that much; it's our perception of them that changes. When you face her, listen to what she has to say. Don't let that temper and stubborn streak of yours get in the way. From the sound of it, you both have a lot of explaining to do."

Striding through the lobby of Le Pavillion with a confidence I am not feeling, I make my way to the front desk. A man in a black suit, white shirt, and gold tie greets me professionally. "Welcome to Le Pavillion sir. How may I be of assistance?"

"I'm here to see Sookie Stackhouse," I tell the concierge.

The man behind the desk does a quick search of his guest registry. "I'm sorry sir; we do not have anyone staying here by that name," the concierge says in a haughty, dismissive tone. I want to drag his smarmy ass over the counter and beat his face to a bloody pulp. Did she fucking lie to me?!

Furious, I storm off. I'm nearly to the entrance of the hotel when I hear my name being called frantically. I turn around to see another hotel employee rushing toward me. The woman looks flustered as she stops in front of me. She brushes the few strands of hair that have fallen loose from her chignon and smiles at me.

"Mr. Northman, my name is Isabel Beaumont," she says while extending her hand to me. I shake her hand politely as I wait to hear what this woman wants; it's probably an autograph or picture, usually it's both.

"If you'll follow me, I can take you to Ms. Stackhouse's suite," she says while gesturing to the elevators.

"But I thought the man said she wasn't a guest here," I state in confusion.

Ms. Beaumont smiles politely as she presses the button to call the elevator. "You'll have to forgive my coworker," she says apologetically. "He is correct; our guest registry does not include anyone by the name of Stackhouse. Ms. Stackhouse's reservation is under another name: Mrs. C. Porter."

"Cole Porter," I state faintly and Ms. Beaumont smiles again as the elevator doors open. We enter the elevator, and the hotel employee swipes a keycard to reach the top floor of the hotel. After pressing the button for the ninth floor, Ms. Beaumont continues her explanation.

"Ms. Stackhouse informed me earlier that she was expecting you this afternoon. Though she said you were meeting at three," she says while glancing discreetly at her watch. It is a little before two. Before I can offer an explanation, she blithely carries on. "Ms. Stackhouse did say you might be early and said to show you up no matter when you arrived. I think the poor woman felt bad she forgot to tell you what room to ask for. She called down to the concierge shortly after eleven this morning. I was only too happy to help. My husband and I were lucky enough to have seen her on Broadway. She has an amazing voice!"

"That she does," I agree completely. Even though the woman has rambled, it has set my frayed nerves somewhat at ease. It's a small comfort to know Sookie wasn't avoiding me. I have also used aliases when staying in hotels, and I have often forgotten the name of the reservation.

The elevator doors slide open once we reach our destination. Again, Ms. Beaumont gestures for me to go first. She keeps a hand over the elevator door as she guides me to Sookie's room. "Ms. Stackhouse is in Suite 930, Mr. Northman. Enjoy the rest of your day." She smiles politely at me before disappearing behind the gilded elevator doors.

I release a deep breath as I walk down the hallway to Sookie's room. Gathering my courage, I raise my hand to knock on the door. "Here we go Northman," I say as I tap my knuckles against the door.

The door swings open immediately and I'm still standing there with my hand in the air. "You still talk to yourself when you are nervous," Sookie says with a slight smile as she leans against the door. Looking at her makes my heart ache, because what she is wearing reminds me of what she would wear during winters in New York: black leggings, an oversized sweater, and her hair hangs loose over her shoulders. We spent our last winter snuggling underneath a blanket and would watch the snow fall on the city.

"Would you like to come in?" Sookie waits for me to cross the threshold before quietly shutting the door. We stand staring at each other awkwardly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I finally ask what's been weighing heavily on my mind and heart for a day.

"Why did you cheat on me?" Sookie counters with the question that has preyed on both of us for the last six years, and I have no better answer today than I did then.

"I honestly don't remember," I sigh out and lean my head against the wall. I close my eyes in defeat as I feel the shame once again wash over me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" My eyes snap open at the venom in her voice. Her face is pulled in tight lines but her cheeks burn with fire. "You don't remember why you broke my fucking heart?!" She stomps down the hallway and I hurry after her. I want to grab her to hold her in place, but I'm afraid of her reaction if I touch her. I can see Sookie is struggling to control her emotions and I so badly want to comfort her but I can't. I'm the one to hurt her.

"That's not what I meant! I honestly have no memory of that evening! I remember drinking at the bar. Freyda showed up to ask why I was drowning my sorrows. I told her how you were sick and couldn't come down. She tried to make a move and I swear to God that I turned her down! The next thing I remember is waking up the next morning." I spare Sookie the details of where and how I woke up that morning. "You know the rest," I sigh dejectedly.

"Oh for God's sake; you couldn't come up with a better excuse than that? You've had six fucking years to think of one!" Sookie's scathing tone and hostile attitude break the tenuous control I had over my emotions.

"It's not a fucking excuse; it's the goddamn truth! Do you think you were the only one heartbroken?! I loved you! I _still_ love you! Fuck!" I yank my hands through my hair as I try to gain control of my emotions as I pace away from Sookie. This is so not how I wanted this afternoon to go. "I get that I fucked everything up; I know I ruined it. But was that reason enough to keep my daughter from me? Is that your idea of a fitting punishment?" Part of me wants to grab her, shake some fucking sense into her, and make her realize that I'm suffering too. Does she think she was the only one affected by what I did?

"I did try to tell you," Sookie whispers. When I glance at her face I see her looking at me with a mixture of horror, heartbreak, and anger on her face.

"Sookie," I say tiredly, "please just tell me the goddamn truth. If you had tried to see me at any point during our time apart, I would have welcomed you with open arms. Other than when I've seen you on Broadway, I haven't seen you before yesterday. So when did you try to tell me you were carrying my child?"

She moves to sit down on the sofa and I see tears sliding down her cheeks. I always hated when she cried and the salty drops of water on her face are still just as unacceptable to me today. "Please Eric; let's start over. I want you to tell me everything that happened with Freyda and then I'll tell you everything that happened on my end. No yelling, no accusations; we'll hear each other out as two adults."

I don't answer her. Instead I walk down the hallway looking for something. I return a moment later with a box of tissues in my hand and offer them to Sookie; she takes two to wipe at her tears. Setting the box on the middle couch cushion, I sit on the far end of the couch and face the woman I love.

"I was so damn disappointed when you couldn't come down to see me," I say as I remember back to that time in our life. "I'd been missing you for weeks. Even when I'd been in New York, we hadn't spent a lot of time together. Between the show and my desire to do that fucking movie, I let you get pushed to the side," I say regretfully. "I had planned a romantic weekend for us at a bed and breakfast, just the two of us." I couldn't tell her that I was planning to propose; that would only hurt her more.

"But then I got sick," Sookie says when I stay silent.

I nod my head. "I wanted to block out my loneliness, so I got shit faced in the bar. I'd been there since it opened in the afternoon. But no matter how much I drank, I still missed you so damn much." I release a sigh. "Everything else happened like I told you. Freyda showed up. She seemed sympathetic about how upset I was that you couldn't come down; said she understood how hard it can be to love someone outside of the business. At some point, she made a move, but I turned her down. I don't know how I got upstairs, how I ended up in her room. I woke up the next morning and all I felt was horror. I knew I'd ruined whatever was between us; guilt, shame, revulsion, fear . . . I felt it all. All I wanted to do was get to you," I say with a sad smile on my face. Sookie is crying silently and biting her lip to keep from crying out. I can't help it, I hate seeing her tears; I lean towards her and wipe the tears off her face with my thumbs. The jolt of electricity that was between us every time we touched is still there; Sookie gasps in surprise and my eyes darken feeling it.

Sookie pulls back from my touch and I snatch my hands back as if I'd been burned. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she begins her part of the story. "I woke that morning and I felt completely fine. I was going to change my flight so I could come down that day; I wanted to surprise you. I knew you were disappointed I hadn't come down and I wanted to make it up to you; I missed you too. A courier came to the door with a package for me. Lala and I thought maybe you had sent a gift because you knew I was sick. When I opened the box, it was pictures of you and Freyda. Dozens of pictures from the two of you inside the bar, pictures showing her touching you, getting closer to you, and then there was a picture that looked like she was kissing you. There were pictures of you hanging on to her as you walked to the elevator. And then there were pictures from the next morning showing you leaving her room looking like you'd been thoroughly fucked. The note at the bottom of the box said "It looks like he's moved on to greener pastures." There was no signature on the note and there was no return address on the box."

I cannot believe what Sookie just told me. Who the fuck would do that to her?

"After our break up, I was just going through the motions. I went to school and work because I had to, but I wasn't paying attention to anything. I wasn't sleeping. When I ate, the food usually didn't stay down. This went on for about a month before I finally passed out at school. I was taken to the hospital. Imagine my shock when the doctor's told me I was fourteen weeks pregnant," Sookie says with a small smile. "I didn't know what to do; but I _knew_ I had to tell you," she says looking me in the eye. "The problem was I didn't know how to contact you. I didn't know where you were in Louisiana and you'd changed your cell phone number."

"Yeah, Pam changed my number because the paparazzi got ahold of it and were harassing me," I say tiredly. "I don't know how those fuckers got my number in the first place. But I left you and Jesus messages that my number had changed."

"Do you honestly think we listened to them? Your voice was the last thing I wanted to hear," Sookie admits ruefully. "I was so angry with you Eric; I felt so hurt and betrayed. You broke my heart into a million tiny pieces," she says as tears threaten to fall from her eyes again. She takes another giant breath and pushes through with her story. "But being pregnant changed all that. It's not that it made everything go away, but I wanted to give you another chance. I wanted to at least try to be a family for our baby. So I did the only thing I could think of to find you? I went to see Pam."

"WHAT?!"

Sookie ignores my interruption and continues her tale. "I told her I needed to find you that I wanted to try to make things work between us." Sookie's face flushes with anger, and her hands are fisted so tightly that her fingernails are digging into her skin. "She told me she couldn't help me; that you had moved on to greener pastures. I was holding you back in your career and you needed to be with someone who would help you reach the next level in Hollywood, someone like Freyda."


End file.
